


I'm Young

by anch



Series: Birthday Boys [1]
Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: BestLeaderJBDay, Good night world, I had to get rid of it somehow, I'm sorry for the cringe, It's literally a minute before the day ends, M/M, Minor Markson, Minor Yugbam, The image of JB standing outside his own door and not wanting to knock was too strong, The justice has not been served, This is the last time I'll write, What Was I Thinking?, hinted markjin, much love to my 7 kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anch/pseuds/anch
Summary: Jaebum is in love with Jinyoung. And then he isn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in honour of #BestLeaderJBDay but it turned out shorter and worse than I imagined. Sorry honey.

At 9pm, Jaebum and Kunpimook were the only people left in the office. Surrounded by towers of emptied soda cans, the new Thai intern grumbled his way through the work he was meant to have finished yesterday, his slightly off-sounding curses flying out of his mouth at the same rate his fingers were moving across his keyboard. Jaebum was half-heartedly playing his nth game of solitaire, but Kunpimook didn’t know this and nor would he guess that anyone would stay four hours overtime voluntarily. Say, that last word _voluntarily_ must be used with more caution. The first three hours spent (slowly) writing his report was not so much voluntary. The last hour spent on the only game Jaebum knew how to conquer was.

After the second hour, Jinyoung stopped calling.

Jaebum heard a new voice in the office, followed by Kunpimook firmly shutting his laptop. Kunpimook knocked on Jaebum’s door, his tall boyfriend standing behind him with a polite smile. “Hey Jaebum-hyung, you still not finished?”

Jaebum shook his head. “Deadlines are a bitch,” he lied. “You’re done, are you?”

“No,” Kunpimook responded honestly. “But Yugyeom won’t let me spend the last hours of being twenty-one looking at graphs. Says it’s distasteful.”

“You sent me seventeen snaps telling me you don’t think you’ll make it to twenty-two,” Yugyeom responded, unamused. Though the way his eyes fell on Kunpimook, as if they only saw him, told a different story.

Kunpimook rolled his eyes. “You can’t talk: you responded to each one with a kissy face.” An endearing shade of red quickly bloomed on Yugyeom’s face.

The way the young couple lovingly bickered with each other was familiar to Jaebum, but he did not feel nostalgia nor did warmth stir in his chest. Instead he felt nothing, and maybe that should have bothered him, but it didn’t.

“Right, you guys head off then. Happy birthday for tomorrow Kunpimook.” Jaebum looked at Yugyeom. “Don’t let him come in, even if he begs you.” This earned a snort from the Thai man himself. “I’ll dump his graphs onto Jungkook.”

“Thanks hyung. Don’t stay too late. You won’t make it to your next birthday if Jinyoung-hyung keeps kicking your ass for spending more time here than with him.”

Jaebum left the office half an hour later. Having consumed nothing but shitty instant coffee since his lunch break, he was hungry. Jinyoung would have left him something in the oven, as always when he worked overtime, but Jaebum pulled over to a small ramyun store and ordered from there anyway.

The store was quiet, the only other customers being a family of five and a couple. Sitting by the window, Jaebum drew the attention of female passerby outside, whose gazes would drift from Jaebum’s loosened tie to the soju bottle to the empty seat across him, a tiny burst of hope blossoming somewhere before they noticed the silver band on his finger.

He wondered when it started; when it became easier for him to stay late at work without thinking twice; when there would be more days in the week that he would eat alone than with Jinyoung; when feeling relieved that he could go home to Jinyoung at the end of the way no longer occurred to him. Jaebum couldn’t remember.

Nights like these became repetitive. Stuck in downtown Seoul traffic, the hum of the radio host’s voice just loud enough so that Jaebum didn't have to think, mindlessly staring ahead and letting his hands move on autopilot. Nights like these blurred into one. The same glowing billboard for a refrigerator at the intersection. Don’t tell the man what to do. He already made his mind up.

*

“You’re indifferent,” Jinyoung said, picking at a fraying thread from the collar of Jaebum’s shirt. “You don’t care deeply about anything.”

In that moment, Jaebum didn’t know what Jinyoung meant. They were on the battered couch in their apartment, it was a warm Sunday afternoon, and Jinyoung’s weight on Jaebum was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever experienced. “I care about you.”

“Yeah.” Jinyoung nuzzled his face into the crook of Jaebum’s neck, heat fanning across Jaebum’s skin. “But…”

“Yeah, so by your definition Mark is also indifferent. Because he only cares about himself."

“No." Jinyoung's rebuttal brought immediate regret to Jaebum. He shouldn't have mentioned Mark. "Mark-hyung worries a lot, but it doesn’t show. You don’t worry, and it shows.”

Jaebum responded with a low chuckle, rubbing his thumb fondly over Jinyoung’s hip. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Jinyoung hesitated, but asked in the end. "Don't you have anything to lose?"

Jaebum wanted to say it. But he'd never been good with words; they got lodged in his throat too easily. So Jaebum said nothing. And if anything, Jinyoung took that as an answer.

*

It should have said something that Jaebum stood outside his apartment with one hand holding his briefcase and the other hovering at the door, unable to bring himself to knock. The light at his feet meant that Jinyoung was still awake. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he had fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for Jaebum.

Jaebum almost did wish that the door drew back that very moment, and a sleepy Jinyoung with bed hair would be on the other side, ready to embrace him, but he couldn’t imagine softening under Jinyoung’s touch, nor could he imagine Jinyoung’s touch at all.

So Jaebum dropped his hand back down to his side and turned around, heading for the elevator.

The door did creak open. But Jaebum had turned the corner by then. “Jaebum-hyung?” The way Jinyoung's quiet voice echoed down the dimly lit corridor sent shivers down Jaebum’s spine.

Jaebum swallowed and entered the elevator.

*

Jinyoung’s sweet breath mingled with his own in a heated kiss, legs tangled and fingers curling, warmth shared under messy sheets. Jaebum’s hands were tentative at first, but Jinyoung made sure Jaebum knew he wasn’t so damn fragile.

He could barely hear the music he played (much to Jinyoung’s amusement) over his own panting and Jinyoung’s giggles, which made Jaebum’s heart flutter harder than it already did. Millions of thoughts swirled in Jaebum’s mind, yet nothing was ever so clear to him. In the dark, no one knew where they ended and the other began. “I love you, Jinyoungie.”

And this time, he meant it.

*

There were too many people at the bar for a Wednesday night. But which day of the week did melancholy belong to, anyway? Any day. The bartender can offer you an anaesthetic, half price during happy hours.

Jaebum should have known better than to come here. Take a man with a sadness, and tell him that he’s not the only one. What does that make him?

Jackson was serving a cocktail behind the counter when he noticed Jaebum. He immediately drifted over with a shot glass and a bottle of vodka. He didn’t look much better himself. His expression was pallid, and dark circles hung under his eyes.

“Are things okay?” Jackson asked, even though the answer was obvious.

Jaebum took the shot. Jackson poured another, and Jaebum drank that too. “Things could be better.”

“Mark packed and left today.” Jackson concentrated on the area of the bench he was wiping. “I don’t know what to do.” His voice cracked.

Jackson wasn’t expecting a response from Jaebum. No one had an answer. No one ever did.

*

Jaebum proposed on the evening of Jinyoung’s twenty-third birthday.

They ate dinner before that, cooked by Jaebum (and his parents' guidance over the phone), with a nice tablecloth and flowers and unlit candles because Jinyoung was afraid of fire. Unable to be with them, Jinyoung’s parents in Jinhae made seaweed soup and Jinyoung cried during their Skype call when it turned out his whole family (even his cousins) had gathered at his parents’ house to celebrate.

Then they went for a walk along Han River. Jinyoung found the sunset prettiest from there. While he held up his phone, searching for the best angle to capture the view, Jaebum pulled out the red velvet box from his pocket and got down on one knee. Jinyoung turned around and dropped his phone.

“J-j-j-jaebum…?”

Jaebum’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. “Will you marry me, Jinyoungie?”

Jinyoung covered his mouth with his hand, nodded.

They hugged and kissed. Someone clapped. Jaebum didn’t know much about love, but he understood enough from the way Jinyoung held on to him.

*

Jaebum didn’t remember how he got home, but at 3am he was sprawled on the couch in the apartment, sober and sorry. He mindlessly watched the slow crawl of traffic through the window, before he realised he was crying.

“Jaebum-hyung...?”

Jaebum's heart jumped out of his mouth. “ _Jinyoungie_.”

There was silence, followed by the gentle pattering of Jinyoung’s footsteps. “Jaebum-hyung, is that you?”

Jinyoung found Jaebum, and without saying anything crawled onto the couch beside him. No one spoke further, and neither knew what it meant, yet. But Jinyoung nuzzled his face into Jaebum’s neck, and Jaebum draped his arm around Jinyoung, like he always did.

This time, he won’t let go.

*

Jackson threw up his entire night’s worth of booze, an awful acidic smell filling up the bathroom. Jaebum helped him clean up before walking him in slow, jagged, steps to the nearest empty bedroom, settling him down on the bed. Jaebum didn’t even know the guy well. He was invited to a party at his friend Youngjae’s house. Found the vibe shitty (no offence) and the music improvable. Was walking down the hallway when he heard retching noises, and discovered the cheerful brunette he met earlier hunched over the toilet bowl looking on the cusp of death.

Jackson kept mumbling things, a name. Jaebum left the room, and happened to run into Youngjae as he walked down the staircase. “Hey, do you know a Mark?” Jaebum asked.

“Mark Tuan?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Youngjae hiccuped. “I saw him in the kitchen before.”

“Thanks.”

There were three people in Youngjae’s kitchen. A girl, making an omelette, and two guys. The shorter was leaning against the fridge, and taller one was leaning into him.

Jaebum cleared his throat. “Mark.”

The taller of the two guys turned around, a mixture of confusion and annoyance on his face. “Yeah?”

But Jaebum’s eyes had already drifted towards the other boy, who under the soft kitchen light was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Jaebum opened his mouth, and all that came out was a hoarse noise.

“What?”

Jaebum, unable to form sentences, sputtered the only things he knew at that very moment (other than that the boy in the kitchen looked like everything he’d ever dreamt about). “Jackson. Drunk. Upstairs.”

Mark sighed and hurried past him.

The boy approached, light on his steps and a glow in his eyes. For the first time in his twenty years, Jaebum felt his heart lurch.

“Is Jackson _really_ drunk?” The boy pouted.

“Y-y-yeah…”

The boy frowned cutely. Clearly intoxicated. It was cute anyway. The frown slowly turned into a smile. “Okay! I’m Jinyoung. Nice to meet you!”

**Author's Note:**

> Beloved leader, I wish upon you good health and a successful 2017. Thanks for everything. Much love.


End file.
